


Corner of the World 9: Greatness Thrust Upon

by serafina20



Series: Corner of the World [9]
Category: Smallville
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-22
Updated: 2011-02-22
Packaged: 2017-10-15 21:00:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/164886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serafina20/pseuds/serafina20
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lex and Damien have a late night chat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Corner of the World 9: Greatness Thrust Upon

Everyone has his own particular comfort food. Something that goes directly to every cold spot in a person's body and warms him, makes everything seem better.

Clark's was chicken soup, and Lex could understand why. Martha's recipe was delicious, and did send a sense of comfort and love through him when he ate it. Lex was tempted to make that one of his comfort foods too. Except, his were already set, and he didn't think it was really something he could choose. Comfort foods chose you, not the other way around. And his had already chosen him.

Chicken and dumplings were the most random comfort food he had. He vaguely remembered the first time he'd tasted them. His family had been on vacation and he'd wandered off. It had been raining and, hours after losing himself, he'd been found by a very kind and very old woman. She had taken him into her cottage, sat him in her parlor which had a great view of the sea, and fed him milk and chicken and dumplings.

And, she had listened to him talk, never once interrupting. She's also let him play; she had lots of toys lying around. Lex remembered her saying that playing kept a person young.

Lex didn't have many toys. At least, not like these. His toys tended to be strategy and war games. These were dolls and toy cars. Toys to play with, not to prepare for the future.

Chicken and dumplings took him back to that wonderful day.

Brownies. Brownies were obvious: they were chocolate. They were the one thing Lex made sure he knew how to make his awful last year of college. It was one of the reasons he'd gotten sick that winter: a diet of alcohol, drugs, and brownies hadn't made him a very healthy boy.

Macaroni. Macaroni had been the only meal his mother knew how to cook. She made it from scratch too. Any time Lex needed comfort, she would make a batch, take him upstairs to her private sitting room, wrap him in her blue satin blanket, and cuddle him. Make him feel loved. Safe.

Mabel's macaroni didn't taste quite the same - none did - but it was close enough.

Lex piled the reheated pasta onto his fork, eyes on the broken eight ball resting on the coffee table. Behind the halves, the fire dance merrily, chasing shadows away from the area immediately in front of the fireplace. Lex was just inside the circle of light, shadows lapping at his back, black leather couch threatening to be absorbed by the darkness.

He sat casually, one leg stretched out adjacent to his body, the other curled in, socked foot resting against the bowl of macaroni. He had made his midnight snack himself, wishing to be alone. When he was younger, in his wilder days, Lex had always made the servants get up when he did. He wouldn't even make himself a cup of cocoa. It gave Lex a feeling of power to know he had so much control over another living person.

He didn't do it anymore, although he knew he could. If he had wanted, Lex could have woken Damien and asked him to heat up the macaroni, and Damien wouldn't have said a word. The knowledge made Lex feel spoiled, knowing that he was so well taken care for. He wondered how Clark had survived his entire life with no one waiting on him hand and foot.

Clark . . .

When Clark concentrated, he could control his strength. They spent the whole night together and Lex didn't have a single bruise. Of course, they hadn't had sex, but there was a lot of damage two people could do to each other in bed while sleeping. No matter how huge the bed was.

Then there was the way Clark could control his strength when angry . . . but Lex didn't really want to think about making Clark angry again. It was terrifying, knowing that Clark could kill him in an instant. All he had to do was squeeze his hands and Lex's bones could be turned to mush. Except, when he was angry, Clark didn't even come close. He seemed to be in almost total control over his freakish strength, control he didn't have when they were fooling around. It scared Lex to think that Clark wouldn't kill him when he was pissed, but might accidentally while they were having sex.

Lex would never have that control.

"He's getting better, though," he told the broken ball.

It was true. The first time they had fooled around, Lex had gotten bruised. All they had really done was make out. Now, though, as long as they stayed above the waist, Clark was fine. He remembered not to hold Lex too tightly. But the moment the really heavy petting began, those fingers began digging into his skin. It wasn't that he minded the bruises, because, truth be told, Lex was just enough of a masochist to get off on it, but even he had his limits.

One of those limits being the desire to emerge from a sexual episode unscathed. And, judging by the pool ball, that wasn't going to happen anytime soon. Unless he did something.

Of course, it was more than likely that, given enough time, Clark would get control of his strength during sex. As he got used to all the sensations, he'd calm down. It wasn't like he didn't know he lost control; that's how the ball was broken in the first place. Clark was well aware of his strength and was obviously trying not to hurt him. Given that kind of effort, Clark would probably, eventually get control.

But that wasn't good enough. Lex wanted to feel safe now.

He sighed and ate another forkful of his macaroni.

The door opened. "Sir?" Damien said, stepping inside. He was clad in a pair of dark blue pajamas and matching robe which complemented his coloring. The neck of the robe was open, revealing the expanse of his tanned skin and muscular chest. Tousled though he was - his hair was mussed and eyes heavy lidded with sleep--he looked as ready for business as ever. Business... or pleasure.

Lex ran his eyes over his assistant, and swallowed. "Yes?"

"Did you need anything sir?"

Closing his eyes, he shook his head. "No, Damien. That's why I didn't call for you." Lex stretched his back and ate another forkful. "Why are you up?"

"I thought I heard you and wanted to see if you needed anything."

"What, are you going for the Best Assistant of the Year Award or something?" He couldn't help the note of exasperation that crept into his voice. He picked up the bowl of pasta, gathering more onto his fork.

Damien raised an eyebrow. "Well, it is a highly coveted prize, sir," he responded dryly. "Are you feeling well?"

"I'm fine."

Damien approached the couch, looking as concerned.

Heart leaping to his throat, Lex pushed away, jamming himself into the corner of the couch. His response was automatic, unmotivated by thought.

"I'm fine. Don't touch me."

His assistant stopped. "Very well." Damien's eyes slid to the coffee table, and he nodded as if some question had been answered. "I saved the last pair of sheets he ruined. I was not sure if you were gathering evidence, but I thought it best to behave as if you were."

Lex shook his head. "I'm not. Not really. Or, actually, I'm trying not to." He sighed and ate a few more bites. "I don't want to investigate him, but I have to. I have to know the truth about what happened the day he hit me. And . . . all the other stuff." He bit his lip. "I think I know why he's so strong. Well, I have a theory, but it remains untested. Part of me wants to know for sure." He took a deep breath. "But . . . I don't. Because I really like him. I don't want to exploit him."

"Then simply refrain."

He laughed bitterly. "If only it were that easy. I'm a Luthor, remember? Not only do we gather information about everything as a rule, but I'm trying to break away from my father. Gather an army, as it were, to strengthen my position. But not Clark. I don't want him to be part of it." He took a shaky breath. "Beyond all that, though, there's another complication."

"And that is?"

"I don't want him to accidentally kill me in the heat of passion."

Damien sat on the far end of the couch, well away from Lex. "I understand, sir."

Lex sighed, eyes fastened on the pool ball. "He keeps trying to grab my head now. I keep pushing him away, which is not fair to him. It's every man's God given right to grab onto the head of the person going down on him, but, dammit, it's my God given right not to have my skull crushed when he comes." He tapped his teeth with the end of his fork. "He tries not to touch me, but I want him to. When he does touch me, it's either so light it's a tease, or so hard it bruises. And once he starts touching me, he just keeps going, like he can't stop."

"I can sympathize with that feeling, sir. The texture of your skin is very unique. Very . . . soft."

Grimacing, Lex set his bowl on the coffee table and rose. He went to the bar and poured a drink. "I meant what I said last week," he told the bottle of Scotch, his shoulders tight.

"Sir?"

"You're not . . . not my whore." He gulped the Scotch down, wincing at the burn. The he poured himself another drink.

Damien cleared his throat. "I was not aware I ever pretended to be one."

He turned. "I've used you like one."

"When?"

"Well . . . before. In the past." When Damien showed no signs of comprehension, Lex sighed angrily and said, "You know. All those times I stuck my dick into your mouth and said suck."

"Ah, yes. I remember those moments, sir. What I do not see is how that makes me a whore."

Lowering his eyebrows, Lex said, "Well, I pay you."

"But, you do not pay me for that particular service."

"I assumed it was covered under the umbrella of duties."

"I disagree. Nowhere in my contract does it say that I am under any obligation to perform fellatio. I do it for free." He hesitated, then asked, "May I ask what brought this on?"

"Uh, Dominic," Lex said, feeling lost. This was not a conversation he had ever thought he would be having.

Damien's eyes darkened at the name. "Dominic." Utter disdain dripped from his voice. "And what, exactly, did Dominic do to indicate that I exchange sexual favors for money?"

"Uh, nothing. I mean, Dad paid him to seduce me. To take care of me; suck me off. Maybe more. Seeing how degrading it was for him. And me."

His assistant was silent for a long moment. Crossing one leg over the other, he said, "I appreciate your concern, sir, but it is misplaced. There is a difference between your father's assistant and myself: Dominic is a fool, I am not." He draped his right arm over the back of the couch. "Dominic has two fatal flaws: he is in love with power, and he is in love with you."

Lex made a surprised sound. "What?"

Damien's eyes were serious. "Last winter when you were in the hospital, he came to visit you. It was one of your darkest nights, when we weren't sure if you would survive. He was drunk, a wreck. Wracked with anxiety over your possible death. They allowed him in to see you, where he sobbed over your body like a child. I offered to allow him to sit with me; I even got him some coffee, but he wouldn't stay. After crying out the pathetic story of his feelings for you, he announced he wasn't strong enough to watch you suffer and left."

Damien's lips twisted into a sneer. "He is a man with no convictions and no fortitude." He met Lex's eyes. "If he was ashamed by being told to administer fellatio to you, it was not because he did not want to. It was because he would have done it for free, yet took the money. In doing so, he used you to obtain the power and position he wants. He neither loves nor admires your father. Dominic serves Lionel Luthor for the power and prestige he thinks it bestows."

Clearing his throat, Lex took a sip of his Scotch. He walked back to the couch and sat down, still well away from Damien. "Then what about you?"

"What about me?"

"You said I don't pay you to blow me."

"No. I never thought that you did."

"So you do it for free."

"Yes?"

Lex laughed slightly. "Why?"

Damien lifted his shoulders elegantly. "Sometimes you get very tense. It relaxes you."

"Well, yeah, but that doesn't answer my question. If you don't think I pay you to do it, then why say yes when I ask?"

He cleared his throat. "With all due respect, sir, you have never asked. Any time you have needed the service, I have offered. Most of the time, by the time you give verbal consent, you are already down my throat." The corners of his lips twitched. "Although, I doubt those exclamations of affirmation have as much to do with my offer as to my actions."

"You are still avoiding my point, Damien. You say Dominic is pathetic because he's in love with me, and yet, you do this for free. How does that make you superior?"

Damien shook his head. "Dominic is not pathetic for loving you. You are a very attractive and charismatic young man, well deserving of love. Mr. Kent has my admiration and full respect due to his feelings for you. He was able to overcome his upbringing and socialization to see you for what you truly are: a great man." His eyes met Lex's. They were almost fathomless they were so dark. "Which brings us to why I willingly and gladly perform any service for you at any time: You are a great man, sir, with wondrous potential. I know that you are destined to accomplish extraordinary things. It is your destiny."

"My destiny," Lex repeated.

"Yes. Your path is to become a leader, someone highly regarded, highly respected. A man whose name will go down in history."

"Well I know that," Lex told him haughtily. "But you . . . you . . . you what? Ride on my coattails? Live my life vicariously? Help me climb to the top, only to push me back down, taking it for yourself?"

Damien shook his head. "No. I gain nothing but the satisfaction of contributing to your destiny." He inclined his head. "I have always known I was not destined to rule the world. Rather, I was put here to assist with someone else's rise to greatness. You, sir." A quiet fire smoldered in his eyes.

Lex swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. "Me."

"Yes. Your father is an imbecile. He believes that he is a great man. He is foolish, blind, and power hungry. He has allowed himself to become comfortable, set in his ways. He no longer believes the rules apply to him, which is dangerous in any man. And, for whatever reason, your father your worth."

"To do great things."

"To be glorious, sir, and to accomplish wondrous feats. One day, you will, of that I am sure. All I want is to help you achieve that goal. To keep you on your path to glory without letting you become too comfortable. Always to be vigilant in accomplishing your goals. Your destiny. And if that means I must lie, steal, cheat, kill, or suck your cock, then I will do what I must."

"I still don't understand why you would do this," Lex said, his voice hoarse.

"I do this because it is my destiny. If you succeed, then I have succeeded." He tipped his head back. "I have very few expectations for myself. I need neither money, fame, nor success. I can satisfy my sexual needs with ease, and have no need for close companionship but what you choose to share with me. Work is my life. You and your future are my life."

Lex looked away from the Damien. He'd always known that Damien was a little . . . intense, but this was much more. Fanatical. The word zealot also came to mind, although the idea that Lex could inspire such an . . . exaggerated response and feeling as a little funny. And very frightening.

"So," Lex said after a long silence, "you'd do anything for me."

"Yes."

"Suck me off every morning after we get to the plant?"

"Of course."

"Cover up an indiscreet affair and the unwanted results?"

"Certainly."

"Fuck me?"

"Any time."

"Kill my father?"

"As soon as you give the word, sir."

"Jesus Christ." Lex knocked back the rest of his Scotch, then rose on shaky legs to get another. "I mean, I've always felt that I'd do something great - well, I've hoped I would - but no one else has ever . . . I mean, I've only known you for two years."

"Two and one quarter, actually. And I'd have done anything you asked within the first hour of our meeting. Your greatness called out to me even then."

Pouring his drink, Lex said softly, " 'Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them.'"

"Perhaps you were not born great, sir, but there is the mark of greatness stamped upon you. And you will achieve greatness."

Nodding, Lex closed his eyes. "Last week I told a woman I wanted her to look into my future. I thought... I've always thought I was born for so much more than even my father could dream of. So I went to her and asked. It killed her. My future killed her. And now, I have you telling me that you would do anything for me to achieve my destiny. The destiny that may have killed her."

"If you want to be a great man, sir, you must be prepared to accept the consequences."

"Including murder?"

"You must rise above all you must do to achieve your destiny, and realize that it is all for the greater good."

Lex took a shuddering breath. "I'm a little lost, Damien. There are so many paths, and I don't know which to take."

Damien cleared his throat. "I believe that for now you should stay on this path. Discover yourself and your life here, in Smallville . . . with you lover."

"My lover who could destroy my destiny with a squeeze of his hand in the throes of passion."

"Yes," was Damien's dour reply. "That is a quandary." He leaned forward, studying the broken ball. "I assume, one of his main problems would be that he loses body-awareness while swept up in the pleasure."

Lex turned. "Yes. That's exactly it. The more lost in passion he gets . . . But how do I . . . get him into it enough for it to be pleasurable while keeping him aware of himself? And me."

"Have you tried binding him?"

"Damien, he cracked a pool ball in half. He'll snap through any restraints easily."

His assistant shook his head. "No. Not to restrain, just to . . . make him more aware, of what's going on."

Lex chewed on his lip, nodded. "I see what you mean. Maybe . . . and give him something to do with his hands, too. Something to . . ." He laughed.

"Sir?"

"Oh, I know what I'm going to do." He grinned, feeling suddenly lighthearted, intensity of the previous moments pushed aside. "Anything on the schedule tomorrow?"

"Dr. Pierce is coming over at ten for your physical."

Lex groaned. "Just how I want to spend my fucking morning. Anything else?"

"Nell Lang will be here at noon with the decorator. Final plans and preparations begin this week."

"Fine. I'll be here to greet Nell, and play nice, but I'm leaving the second after they arrive. I don't give a fuck about this party, and don't see why I should be here. Besides, I have shopping to do."

"Very good, sir."

Lex downed his Scotch, then walked across the room to pick up the pool ball pieces. Slipping them into his pocket, he said quietly, "Thank you."

Damien nodded, a smile curving his lips. He really was a very handsome man, and if Lex didn't have Clark, he would definitely take advantage of Damien's offer.

But . . . he had Clark.

"You're welcome, sir."

Lex glanced up, met Damien's eyes briefly, then turned and quickly walked from the room.


End file.
